


A Brief Respite

by Fumm95



Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Nerds Being Nerdy, cheek kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 20:25:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15759060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fumm95/pseuds/Fumm95
Summary: Duke Lyon has a question for Lady Camellia of Jiyel. It does not quite go as planned.





	A Brief Respite

**Author's Note:**

> I recently got into 7KPP and immediately fell for the dweeby duke. What can I say? I have a type and he came for my life. And the world needs more Duke Lyon content so here I am.
> 
> From the tumblr prompt: A kiss after a small rejection.

A quiet cough interrupts her reading and Camellia looks up, blinking several times to clear her vision of floating letters, to find Duke Lyon silhouetted against the sun, oddly book-free and squinting in the bright afternoon. Tilting her head to one side, she smiles and arches an eyebrow at him. “Duke Lyon. What are you searching me out for? Not that I’m complaining, but it must be an important matter indeed to bring you out of your book fort into fresh air of your own volition.”

He scowls, though she knows him well enough to see that it is more reflexive than out of any true irritation at her teasing. Still, he says nothing, only shuffling across the dock with an exhale that isn’t quite a sigh, and looks down at her.

It’s only then that she remembers her most unladylike presentation, shoes and stockings lain aside and bare feet dangling over the water in a way that would likely send at least some of the Arland and Wellin delegates—and perhaps even some of the more etiquette-minded ones from Jiyel—into paroxysms of pearl-clutching horror, and fights a blush, though she finds herself in considerably greater discomfort craning her neck to look at him. “Though I hope that whatever it is can wait until you’ve sat before my neck becomes permanently fixed in this position?”

A hint of amusement crosses his face as he folds himself to sit beside her. “I believe your friends have had a poor influence on your propriety, Lady Camellia.”

She shrugs, overly cavalier, and sets her book down after ensuring that she’s marked the page. “That supposition relies on the potentially faulty assumption that I possessed any modicum of propriety before making their acquaintances,” she counters.

His expression relaxes into a brief smile before tightening once more, with a stoicism that she suspects she hasn’t seen since their first conversations, weeks ago. Whatever brought him outside of the castle, let alone the library, must truly be important.

Even so, he says nothing and instead studies the lake before them with an intense look that, if she did not know him as well as she did, she would suspect to be a glare. But she does know him better, has had weeks to learn the intricacies of his expressions and understand the complexities of his inclinations. She _knows_ him, and instead, she shifts closer, twisting to look him in the eye with something bordering worry. “Lyon, what is it?”

Her concern fades into silent amusement when he _blushes_ , fidgeting with all the nervousness of a schoolboy. A six and a half foot tall, still managing to somehow tower over her when they’re both sitting, schoolboy, but a schoolboy nonetheless.

Finally, he turns to her. “There is to be a ball soon.”

“That there is,” she agrees, though she has to bite her lip to prevent from chuckling at his expression, shifting so quickly to disgruntled at the merest mention of a social event that she suspects it’s more instinctive than intentional.

He falls silent again and she smiles, watching the flickers of emotion dart across his face as thoughts race through his mind, faster than she can follow. Sometimes, it truly amazes her how anyone could ever have found Duke Lyon cold and impassive, how little effort they must have put into understanding him.

In the quiet, she reaches out, taking his still-fidgeting hands in her own and curling her fingers around his. Though she says nothing, his eyes soften, lips curling into a gentle smile, before his expression turns serious once more and he gives a businesslike nod.

“Lady Camellia, I… may I have the honor of a dance at the upcoming ball?”

Her answer slips from her mouth without thought. “No.”

Before she can elaborate, he nods again, but in the second before his impassive mask falls into place, she gets a glimpse of hurt in his eyes, gone so quickly that she almost doubts that she saw it in the first place. “I… see. Very well.” His gaze darts from her to the lake as he draws a breath that, on anyone else, she would call shaky. “I understand, and I apologize for interrupting your intent perusal of your book.”

“Lyon!” She frowns, hands tightening their grip when he tries to pull away, until he turns his gaze back to her. “I do not mean that I do not wish to dance with you. In fact, it would be the highlight of the ball. But…” She pauses, leaning closer until she can be sure he is focused on her. “I am not so selfish as to make you uncomfortable for the sake of my own desires. I know you, Lyon, and you are not the type to look forward to socializing and crowds and grand gestures of affection.”

He visibly relaxes, even as his cheeks flush faintly in the afternoon sun. “Not typically, perhaps, but I must confess that I find the prospect of it… almost enjoyable should you be at my side.”

“Why, Duke Lyon, that may be the most anticipatory remark I have ever heard from you with regards to a social event!”

“I…” He pauses, his gaze sweeping over her before his brows draw into a light glower. “You are teasing me.”

Her grin widens. “I am indeed. You, my dear Duke, are incredibly enjoyable to tease.”

When his scowl deepens, she chuckles to herself before, ignoring the faint fluttering in her stomach, leaning closer and brushing her lips against his warm cheek. He noticeably stiffens under her touch, as though he hardly dares to breathe, and when she pulls away, her own cheeks heating up to the same shade as his at her boldness, she can tell that she’s smiling, a giddy grin that feels almost permanently etched onto her face.

Taking a deep breath, she clears her throat and calms her voice to the best of her ability. “Happy now?”

He offers her a rare, impossibly tender, smile. “Very.”


End file.
